


Someone Better

by dragon_with_a_teacup



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, RIORDAN Rick - Works
Genre: Chierro, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Humor, Magnus is a normal person, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Multi, Natalie Chase is a lovely human being, Or not, Romance, Samirah is still a Valkyrie, Samirah ships Magnus/Alex, because Fierrochase is not creative, is meet ugly a term?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_with_a_teacup/pseuds/dragon_with_a_teacup
Summary: Magnus meets a girl he likes. Then a boy. Decisions, decisions...





	Someone Better

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by that tumblr post by suburbanstresszits that says: "A romantic comedy where a girl meets a guy and really likes him, then later on meets a girl she also likes and she is tearing herself up trying to choose between the two, only to find out in the end that they were the same, genderfluid, person."

A falafel restaurant _would_ be the place where Magnus Chase experienced something life-changing, wouldn’t it? Not that he knew it was a life-changing event at the time, of course.

That revelation came later.

When he first sat down at the table in the shopping center’s food court, he figured it would be a pretty boring day. After all, how could a tutoring session in geometry be an interesting use of his time?

At least he was meeting with his tutor, Samirah, today and so wouldn’t be stuck going it alone. He glanced at his phone again. Sam was due to be here in about ten minutes, according to her last text. She had hit traffic on the way. However, there was another message, this one new. He opened it and resisted the urge to flinch.

_We didn’t finish our conversation from the car, you know. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten!_

He looked around. Across the food court sat his mother, who had watched him open and read her text. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, a small smirk on her face. Instead of replying to the text, however, Magnus just rolled his eyes. His mother didn’t seem fazed, of course.

In the car on the way here, his mother had broached any teenager’s most stressful, humiliating subject. Romance.

_“So, Magnus. Your second year of high school is more than halfway over. Any… girlfriend material?” she asked, turning the wheel to pull into the parking lot._

_He sputtered, too caught off guard to even form a coherent response. His mother, however, seemed to take his lack of an answer another way entirely._

_“Or boyfriend material,” she added quickly. “You know that’s okay, right?”_

_“Mom!” His face flamed. “Please!”_

_She just gave him a sideways, smirky sort of look. “That’s not an answer, pumpkin.”_

_The second she pulled into a parking space, Magnus was gone, diving out of the car._

Yeah, all in all, not the sort of conversation sixteen-year-olds want to have with their mothers. And upon reflection, maybe this tutoring session wasn’t such a bad thing in comparison.

“Magnus!” the boy at the falafel place, Amir, called. He held a tray of Magnus’s food. Awesome. Magnus scooted his chair back to stand and retrieve his order.

 _CRASH_.

“Hey!”

Magnus whirled, eyes going wide. A figure lay sprawled on the tile floor, falafel scattered in a dreadful splat. People at nearby tables turned, a few chuckling, a few applauding sarcastically, and a few decent ones wincing in sympathy.

What had he done?

“Are… are you okay?” he stammered, scrambling around the chair and kneeling down beside his unwitting victim. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Startling eyes whipped up to look at him. One light amber, the other dark brown. A slender-fingered hand reached up to brush emerald locks out of the way. “Watch where you’re putting your chair next time.”

“Can… can I help you up, at least?” Magnus offered his hand. The girl—he was pretty sure she was a girl, at least, though to be honest he was still distracted by those eyes—huffed and scrambled to her feet on her own. Crumbs of falafel and pita bread pattered to the floor as she brushed herself off.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus repeated, feeling rather useless as he straightened up as well. He did think to scoop the girl’s fallen tray and paper plate off the ground, though. “Really, really sorry. I’ll… I’ll share some of my food with you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Right. The massive feast you have there.” She gestured at his table, which was empty save for his school bag, mechanical pencil, and geometry textbook.

Magnus’ cheeks warmed. “Well, I… My order’s over there… I was just going to get it when I… uh, hit you.”

To his surprise, the girl smiled. “I know. It was hard to miss the way your head popped up when the falafel guy called out. What, do you not get fed at home?”

“Course I do, I just…” Magnus stammered. “Look, do you want some of my food or not? Once I, you know… go get it?”

She smirked and crossed her arms. “Nah, you’re good, my dude. I was actually just taking my stuff to the garbage.”

Magnus looked down and realized that, indeed, the bits of food scattered on the floor were in fact the remains of a meal. As he raised his gaze back to her eyes, he noticed a few flecks of tahini on her rose-colored jeans, on her olive cable-knit sweater.

“Hey,” she snapped in front of his face. “My eyes are up here, man.”

 _Oh, I know_ , he wanted to say. Instead, his mouth decided to say, “You have food on your clothes.”

What? Really, Magnus?

She lifted an eyebrow, though that amused smirk was still on her face. “And whose fault is that? Maybe you _do_ owe me something to eat.”

Before he could reply, her phone buzzed. “Ah, better run.”

“I…” Magnus didn’t know where he was going with the start of that sentence, but it turned out not to matter—she was giving her clothes one last swipe, sending a few more crumbs flying, and he trailed off.

“Hey,” she said as she turned to leave, “don’t forget about your food, Falafel Boy.”

Instinctively, Magnus looked toward the falafel stand. Amir had set his order under one of the heat lamps. By the time Magnus looked back, the girl was walking away, a spring in her green-high-top-clad step.

Several long seconds passed before Magnus regained the ability to move his legs again.

When he reached the falafel counter, Amir raised his eyebrows. “Is everything okay, Magnus?”

“Yeah,” Magnus ducked his head and hoped his face was no longer red. “Thanks for keeping my food warm, man.”

“Of course,” Amir smiled, but after a moment his gaze drifted to the side, over Magnus’ shoulder. “Oh, your… uh, tutor’s here.”

Now was Amir’s turn to blush, and Magnus knew why. He picked up his tray and headed back to his table, where sure enough, Samirah al-Abbas stood waiting.

“I’ll tell her you said hi,” Magnus called over his shoulder to Amir, then laughed as the boy’s face went scarlet.

But as Magnus headed back to the table—or perhaps more accurately, the scene of the crime—he glanced across the food court again, seeing his mother’s eyes on him. Her expression was a little giddy, a little smug. Great, so she had watched the entire thing. Now the interrogation on the way home would be even worse.

“ _So who was that cute girl, Magnus?_ ” He could hear her now.

For the first time in his life, Magnus wished the geometry lesson would last forever, so he wouldn’t have to face that awkwardness. Then again, how was he supposed to focus on _anything_ , let alone on geometry, when he would be sitting amidst the debris and memories of the earlier incident?

And besides, who _was_ that girl anyway?

* * *

Magnus woke up one Saturday morning, several weeks after the Flying Falafel Incident, to find a steady drumbeat of rain on his roof. He rolled over and buried himself back under the covers. The last thing he wanted to do today was go outside in all of… this.

Then again. His head popped up as he remembered what the plan was for the day: more tutoring with Samirah.

Each week, when meeting with Sam to slog through more tedious math problems, he had kept an eye out for the mysterious girl. She had never appeared, at least that he had noticed—and he liked to think he would notice someone with green hair. He wasn’t _that_ oblivious.

He rolled out of bed and dressed, listening to the sounds of his mother making breakfast downstairs. Just before he left his room, his phone buzzed.

Samirah had texted: _Don’t hate me, but I’m really not in the mood for falafel again. Any chance we can meet at a coffee place or cafe or something?_

Magnus’ first instinct was to react calmly, as if this were not a big deal. Actually, no. His first reaction was to panic. Because what if this was the day the green-haired girl returned to the food court, and he wasn’t there to see her?

His thumbs flew across the screen. _There’s other stuff to eat in that food court, you know._

Her reply came quickly. _Please?_

The simplicity of that made him realize, and he grinned. _Oh, too shy to see Amir today?_

_It’s not that!_

_Riiiiiiiight_

Chuckling, he put his phone in his pocket and headed downstairs. Samirah and Amir were always flustered around each other, which gave him no end of entertainment. If they were any more adorable… well, they’d be more adorable. Whatever. Magnus wasn’t a poet. He just enjoyed teasing Sam about him.

However, his amusement about his tutor and her betrothed did not quite distract him from his disappointment that he would not be seeing the girl with the dual-colored eyes today.

* * *

The rain actually felt okay, Magnus thought as he walked down Boylston Street after getting off the bus. He had never minded cooler weather, though everyone around him had donned hats and more layers than were probably necessary. It wasn’t as if this were a blizzard.

He did decide to carry an umbrella, though, since he didn’t want to walk into the coffee shop with his hair dripping wet.

Of course, his attempts to stay dry were quickly sabotaged, as a gust of wind suddenly jerked the umbrella in his hand up and back. It nearly blew out of his hand, in fact, but he spun, just managing to hold onto it. But his efforts were not enough, and the umbrella—with an ominous snap—whipped inside out.

Great. Lovely. Just what he needed.

“Smooth,” a voice said.

Magnus looked around. A boy about his age was walking a few yards behind on the sidewalk, his own umbrella in his hand. He was smirking, apparently having watched Magnus’ fumble.

“Oh, yeah,” Magnus said. “I meant to do that.”

“Uh huh,” the boy nodded, an eyebrow raised. Magnus didn’t think he believed him. Still, the boy tilted his umbrella toward Magnus, an offering.

“Oh.” Magnus blinked. “Thanks, man.” He shuffled closer, ducking under the umbrella’s arch while still trying to maintain a respectful distance from the stranger.

The boy gave him an odd, sidelong look, one Magnus couldn’t interpret. Was he surprised he had been thanked? That didn’t make any sense.

“Where are you going?” the boy asked.

“To meet a friend. You know the Thinking Cup around the corner?”

He nodded. “Yeah, my sister and I hang out there sometimes. I’m heading past that, so…”

He twirled the umbrella slightly, sending droplets in all directions.

“Cool. Thanks.” Great, now he was repeating things. “Um, so where are you off to?”

“Art studio.” He tilted his head forward, though Magnus could not see much of anything through the rain, which had begun to increase in intensity. Seeing even five feet ahead was becoming impossible, and Magnus and the boy found themselves huddling closer under the umbrella, knocking elbows and tilting their heads together.

Magnus gave the boy a sideways once-over. He was wearing dark green jeans, black boots with pink laces, and a yellow rain jacket with the hood pulled up, despite the fact that he seemed to be wearing a beanie as well. Then, a particularly strong gust of wind caught the hood and blew it back. Magnus got a glimpse of the beanie—a rather lovely color scheme of pink, white, purple, black, and blue—before the boy tugged the hood back in place with a huff.

“So you’re an artist?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“What kind of art? Painting? Drawing? Carving? Interpretive dance?” Magnus hoped he was asking the right questions—he didn’t know much of anything about art, beyond the rather lame stuff he’d done in middle school.

The boy laughed. “Yeah, I carve little wooden figures doing interpretive dance moves. You got it.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“No,” the boy glanced at him, like _really, idiot?_ “I do pottery mostly.”

“Oh,” Magnus nodded. “Nice.”

“And you? Do anything artistic?”

Magnus laughed. “Definitely not. I can draw stick figures. That’s about it.”

The boy chuckled. Magnus gave him another appraising glance. He found himself wishing he could continue to walk, get to know this boy some more. He seemed interesting, sarcastic, and rather handsome. At least, as far as Magnus could tell he was handsome—the rain was blowing in his eyes a bit.

“So, this is me,” Magnus said with a twinge of regret as he spotted the coffee shop’s sign up ahead. “Thanks again for, uh… the umbrella. Well, I mean, sharing yours. With me.”

The boy nodded, a slight smirk appearing on his features. “Sure thing.” Then he winked, and Magnus felt his cheeks flame with heat.

 _Come on, Magnus_ , some part of him hissed as they reached the door. _Ask him inside for coffee. Or for his phone number. Anything_.

“Well, see you around?”

 _Really, Magnus? That’s it?!_ The quiet voice in his head now sounded like it was ready to flip a table.

The boy nodded, then unexpectedly moved to open the door for Magnus. “See you around.”

Magnus was through the door and halfway to the counter when he heard the boy’s voice again.

“By the way,” he called from outside. Magnus nearly dislocated his neck turning back to him. “What’s your name?”

“Magnus,” he replied, grinning. “You know. Rhymes with swagness.”

He fully intended to ask the boy’s name in return, but the universe conspired against him in that moment: a cluster of giggling rowdy younger kids jostled between them both, apparently desperate to get in from the rain and into the caffeine- and sugar-laced air. The boy was buffeted out of the way, and the door swung shut before Magnus could get the words out.

By the time he got back outside, the boy had faded back into the rain.

* * *

Later, walking home from the bus stop—the rain having stopped some time ago, leaving a dreary gray sky behind—Magnus replayed his conversation with the boy in his mind. As short as their chat had been, it had left quite an impact on him. He’d been easy to talk to, sassy and sarcastic and interesting. Magnus didn’t really know anything about art, but the boy hadn’t seemed to mind really. Still, Magnus vowed to do some research. After all, there was a good chance he’d see the boy again, if he really did go to the Thinking Cup with his sister on occasion…

Come to think of it, maybe that was why the boy seemed familiar. In the moment, Magnus hadn’t been able to put his finger on the precise reason why, but he could have sworn he had seen this boy before. He’d blame the rain for preventing him from realizing it earlier, but they must have crossed paths in that coffee shop before. Meaning there was a chance it would happen again.

So yes, he would definitely need to look up information about pottery, before he ran into the boy again and made an even bigger fool of himself. Hopefully next time, there would be no traitorous umbrella present.

But a sudden thought nearly made Magnus trip into a puddle. What about the girl in the food court? Was he ever going to see _her_ again? Or was he somehow cursed with meeting, speaking with interesting, attractive people once and then never seeing them again? Great. That’d be just perfect.

Oh. Wait a minute… Magnus realized what _really_ felt familiar about the boy. Of course! How had he not realized?

The colors he had been wearing: green and pink, the same combination of shades the girl in the food court had been wearing. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? What were the odds of that?

Maybe they knew each other? It could be they went to the same school. There was that Catholic school down in Dorchester that had green as one of their colors… was their other color pink? Yeah. That sounded right.

Sighing, Magnus shoved his hands in his pockets and continued toward home. Maybe he’d just forget about all this. He knocked over the girl, and looked like a total idiot in front of the boy. Maybe forgetting about them, never meeting them again, wasn’t a _curse_. Maybe it was a _blessing_.

* * *

Well, forgetting about them didn’t work.

Magnus figured that one out pretty quickly. Especially since every time he saw a pair of high-tops on anyone, or thought about falafel, or spotted an umbrella, he thought of them.

So, yeah. He remembered them a lot. And what was he going to do about them? If he _did_ see them again, and he _did_ speak to them again, what then? What if—and this was what really worried him—he said something stupid that would put them off? Or worse, what if he accidentally said something smooth without realizing? What would happen then?

Really, it was just a mess. He hadn’t felt so torn in all his life, except for that time he had to choose between skipping school to go hiking with his mom the Friday before summer vacation, or staying because they were giving out free pizza and watching movies all day.

Magnus was still mulling over the problem, so deep in his head that he didn’t notice Samirah had arrived until she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Hello, earth to Magnus!” she said.

He blinked, jumping slightly in his seat. “Oh. Sorry, hey.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What’s wrong? You seem… well, more perturbed than usual.”

“Har har.” He sighed and ran his fingers up and down the spine of his textbook on the table before him. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

He felt like he might be blushing, if the heat in his face was any indicator. Then, Sam’s eyes widened in worrying comprehension.

Yeah, okay fine, so he was definitely blushing.

“Is it about… your love life? Because I don’t know what else could make bachelor Magnus Chase blush like that,” she said. He tried not to feel insulted by the slightly teasing tone she had adopted.

“Can we not?” he asked. “Please, let’s just… Trigonometry, triangles, long division, that kind of thing. Yeah. That’s way more important than whatever you’re thinking I was thinking about.”

“Magnus,” she crossed her arms, “if you think I’m not going to ask you about this, when you take every opportunity you can to tease me about Amir, you’re even more of a moron about me than you are about trigonometry. So out with it.”

He met her gaze. Her eyes were steely and determined and eager. “Fine,” he threw his hands up. “I… kind of am in a triangle of my own. And not, you know, the trigonometry kind.”

She leaned forward. “A love triangle? Do I know the other two… points?”

“Doubt it, because I barely know them. But… I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” she ordered.

He sighed, slumping forward to hide his face in his arms on the table. “Look, it’s stupid. I’m probably making too big a deal out of all this.”

“Magnus!” Sam insisted, prodding his arm with her pencil—the eraser end, mercifully. “Come on, you never talk about things like this.”

“You’re my tutor,” he protested feebly, still into his arms. “I’m trying to maintain a professional relationship.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “Since when have you ever been professional with me? We’ve known each other for a year. You talk with me about Amir all the time. I’ve been to your place for dinner before! Admit it, we’re friends.”

This time, she poked him with the other end of the pencil, and he shot back upright. “Ow,” he squawked, rubbing his forearm. “All right, geez!”

She smirked. “So?”

He huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair—out of reach of the pencil—and regarding her. She waited, her gaze steely and frankly pretty intimidating. It didn’t take long for him to break. “Fine! You remember a few weeks ago, when you were late to tutoring because of traffic? Well, I kind of had an incident.”

“An incident?” she asked. Her tone was somewhere between scolding and unsurprised-because-this-was-Magnus. “Oh, what did you do?”

“It was an accident!”

“Magnus—”

“I knocked a girl over, okay? I pushed my chair back without looking, and…” he gestured, flopping his hand over to signify falling.

Samirah pressed her hand to her mouth, hiding a smile. “Wow.”

“She wasn’t hurt! Anyway, we started talking, and… I don’t know, I liked her. It was like we had a… connection. Or something. I don’t know.”

A spark of realization came into Samirah’s eyes. “Is that why you’ve been so distracted lately? Every time we met up there, it was like you were looking up every ten seconds for no reason.”

“Yeah…”

“So what’s the problem? Other than the fact you don’t know who she is? You’re acting like some… I don’t know, some pining Jane Austen character.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m ignoring that. But yeah, that’s not all of the story.”

“Go on,” Samirah urged, twirling her pencil in her fingers and gazing avidly at him, a small smile playing across her lips. Magnus realized this must be what she felt like when he mentioned Amir—a little exposed, a lot embarrassed. No wonder she always blushed.

“Well…” he quickly explained about walking in the rain, his umbrella mishap, and the conversation with the boy in the beanie.

“You didn’t get his name?” Samirah asked, brows knitting together in sympathy. “Or hers?”

“No,” Magnus shook his head. “Which sucks. I just kind of keep hoping I’ll run into one of them again. They were such short conversations, but…”

“But apparently enough time to develop two pretty adorable crushes,” she cut in. Her eyes were twinkling.

Magnus buried his face in his arms again. “Please, _please_ , can we talk about math now?”

Sam chuckled. “All right, fine. But hey, one last question—what are you going to do, if you meet them both again?”

“I don’t know,” Magnus sighed. He tugged his textbook closer and made to open it, but Samirah grabbed it and pressed it shut before he could get his fingers under the cover. “Sam—”

“Magnus.” She was grinning. “You’re in the middle of a literal love triangle!”

He moaned, even as she started laughing. “Please shut up!”

He made a silent vow as he finally forced the textbook open never to tease her about Amir again, if only she would leave him alone about this.

Plus, what was the point of confiding in your friends when they were no help at all? He still had no idea what to do.

Maybe he’d never see the girl or the boy ever again. Yeah, great, perfect, that would solve _everything_.

* * *

Once he managed to get Samirah to stop laughing, they had a very productive tutoring session. However, Sam’s phone rang about ten minutes before they usually wrapped up. She shot him an apologetic look as she slid it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath then.

“Everything okay?” Magnus asked. Anything to put off figuring out the variables for this particular word problem. Besides, it was rare for Samirah to curse.

She looked up at him, her eyes wider than normal, something urgent and tense in her posture. “Um, yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Look, I’m sorry, I’ve got to run.”

“Seriously?” He was getting concerned now. “Sam, are you sure everything’s okay?”

She gave a half-genuine, half-hysterical laugh. “For me, yeah. Besides, if I told you what this is about, you wouldn’t believe me. Just… I’ll see you later.”

And she was off, out the door before Magnus could even echo her farewell. Bemused, he packed up his things. Whatever was up with Samirah, he hoped it wasn’t too serious.

When he got out to the street, barely thirty seconds after Samirah (hey, he was eager to get away from the math homework), he was surprised that she was already out of sight. How had she moved so fast? There was a lot of traffic at the moment; surely she would have had to wait at an intersection, right? It’s not like she could have flown away…

Shaking his head, he turned back and began walking toward the traffic light to cross Commonwealth. He was so distracted, musing about whether Sam had the ability to fly—nah, unlikely. Maybe teleportation? Did she have a TARDIS parked around here somewhere?—he almost didn’t hear his name being called.

Well, sort of his name.

“Hey, Falafel Boy! Wait up!”

He turned and felt his heart-rate immediately skyrocket. The girl, _the_ girl, was approaching him, hands tucked in the pockets of her jeans. She also wore a flannel shirt—green and pink, again.

She smirked at Magnus as he neared him. “Did you really just respond to that like it’s your name?”

“Uhh…”

The girl chuckled. “Wow.”

“S-So how are you?” Magnus hurriedly asked. “What brings you… here?”

She fell into step next to Magnus. The light was about a block away, but the afternoon shopping crowds were fairly thick, so the pair ended up jostled a bit and bumping elbows on more than one occasion. “Just heading home.”

Magnus spotted the flecks of something gray-ish on her slender fingers. “Sorry if this is a weird question, but… what’s on your hands?”

She snorted. “Art aficionado, you are. It’s clay, genius.”

“For pottery?”

“No, I’m a professional geologist at age sixteen.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, for pottery.”

“Cool,” Magnus smiled. “I was actually looking up some videos of it the other day. It’s really awesome. Like, the clay starts out as nothing and then suddenly takes shape into something useful or beautiful.”

“Or both,” she cut in, starting to smile. “But yeah.”

“It looks like it can be pretty complicated, though,” Magnus continued. “I feel like I’d get the sides too thin and the entire thing would collapse.”

“Probably.” The girl nodded agreeably as they stopped at the intersection, waiting for the light to change. Magnus shot her a sharp look, but blushed when he saw the crooked smirk.

“So…” The girl’s voice turned a little shrewd, a little teasing, as they stepped onto the crosswalk with the other pedestrians. “You were looking up stuff about pottery? Any particular reason?”

Magnus tried not to stutter. He might have been successful. A bit. Maybe. “I… I, well. I’ve kinda recently taken an interest, I guess. Hey, by the way, you wouldn’t happen to know…”

He stopped himself. It felt like a coincidence to have met two people into pottery in a short time, but then, there _was_ an art studio nearby. It wasn’t so surprising, he supposed. Still, though, he felt odd asking her about the boy, considering he had—in Samirah’s words—”adorable crushes” on them both.

“Never mind,” he rushed on, ignoring her quizzical eyebrows. “But you know, I’ve been hoping—wondering, I mean!—if I’d run into you again. Not, like, literally,” he rushed on, a vivid sense memory of the feeling of his chair colliding with her flashing through him. “But, like, figuratively.”

 _Very smooth, Magnus_ , he silently berated himself. _She’s definitely going to think you aren’t an idiot now_. They reached the other side of Commonwealth Avenue and turned to walk between the trees. However, before they got far along the sidewalk, the girl stopped and turned, making a beeline for a bench. Magnus followed, really for lack of anything better to do. He and Samirah had planned to spend some more time at the Thinking Cup after their tutoring session—at least before her mysterious emergency. Now though, walking in this rather idyllic setting with this girl seemed even better.

Instead of sitting on the bench, however, the girl propped her foot up on its surface and began re-tying her shoe. Magnus paused, halfway to sitting down, feeling a bit foolish. She raised her eyebrows at him again, and, nervous, Magnus found himself blurting out the first words that came to mind.

“I still don’t know your name.”

She laughed. “Good point. It’s Alex. Alex Fierro.”

“Nice to meet you. Magnus Chase.”

She shook his hand, and they both laughed at the lateness of the formal introduction. At last, she joined him on the bench. They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the sunlight that filtered through the sparse, wintry branches above them. The air was cool, but there was next to no breeze, and the sun made the temperature more than bearable. Magnus felt relaxed, comfortable.

“So what about you, Magnus?” Alex asked after a while.

“What about me?”

“Well, I’m into art. What about you? Falafel and coffee, apparently? What, do you want to be a chef or something? Food blogger, maybe?”

Magnus shook his head, smiling. “Nah, I can’t do photography. I just like eating the stuff, that’s all. I was at the Thinking Cup to study, actually. As for hobbies, I don’t know. I mean, I hike pretty often with my mom.”

“Yeah?” A gleam of interest appeared in her eyes as they fixed on him. “Where?”

They launched into a conversation about the best hiking spots in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. Magnus was pleasantly surprised to learn Alex enjoyed hiking as much as he and his mother did. When Magnus finally remembered to check his phone, the afternoon was nearly gone, the sunset casting a golden light on the tops of the trees and the brownstones nearby.

Alex peered at the phone over his shoulder to check the time. “I better get going.”

He nodded, feeling rueful to cut off their conversation. “Me too. It was… fun, though.”

She smiled. “Yeah, it was.”

Before he could react, or even open his mouth to speak again, she leaned over and kissed him. Just a quick peck on the lips, over almost before he realized what was happening. He blinked, astonished, his heartbeat hammering in his chest. The look in her eyes and the grin on her face warmed the chilly air around them at least tenfold.

“See you around, Magnus.” She stood and winked.

He inclined his head, still struck dumb. Alex spun on her heel and headed off, her step light.

* * *

Magnus’ brain had finally stopped spinning by the time he got home. Still, he practically drifted through dinner, then up into his bedroom. He flopped onto the bed, prepared to try to finish his English homework and be constantly distracted by memories of Alex, her hair dramatically backlit by the setting sun and her lips getting closer and closer to his…

A soft knock. “Magnus?”

He sighed, rolling onto his back. “Yeah, Mom?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

She opened the door and peeked inside. “Is everything okay, pumpkin? You were preoccupied at dinner.”

“I’m fine.”

She only cocked an eyebrow at him as she stepped farther into the room. Magnus sat up and slid to the head of the bed, and she perched on the side.

He looked at her guardedly, but she didn’t speak, didn’t question him further. She just laid her hand on top of his and squeezed. Her silent support worked its usual magic on him, and he sighed again, turning his hand under hers and clutching at her fingers.

“Mom, this is going to… This is going to sound like a cheesy line from a Hallmark film, but… how do you know you have a crush, versus, like, just wanting to be friends?”

She blinked, a slow smile forming on her lips. “Why, honey?”

“Uh… professional interest?”

Her smile widened. “Magnus. You aren’t a good liar.”

He groaned and flopped back on his pillows. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“Are you sure?”

Was he sure it was stupid? Yes he was.

Still, this was his mother. She had never made him feel stupid. He met her bright, emerald eyes. “Well, there’s this girl.” He swallowed, his free hand gripping the bedspread. “And… this boy.”

“And you like them both, but don’t know in what capacity,” she nodded, not missing a beat. Not fazed at all by either statement, apparently. Relief flooded through Magnus with the warmth of summer sunshine.

“Yeah,” he ducked his head. “Pretty much.”

“Well, I can’t tell you what you’re feeling. Especially with so little information, I can’t even make a guess.” She squeezed his hand tighter, cocooning it in both her own. “How long have you known them?”

Magnus swallowed, words catching in his throat. “Not long. I’ve only met her twice, and him just once, but… They’re both really attractive, Mom, and… interesting and… I… I don’t know. Nothing much has really happened, though.”

“Much?” Her eyebrows rose.

“Well, not with _him_ , and not even really that much with her…” He pulled out of her grasp to drag his fingers through his hair. “What am I supposed to do? What if I really do like them _both_? Then what?”

She shifted closer, smoothing his now-tangled locks down again. “You don’t need all the answers right now. Just give it time.” She kissed his forehead. “I’m glad you told me, though.”

He leaned into her embrace. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, pumpkin.”

* * *

Later that night, Magnus’ phone rang. He rolled over, half-asleep, and fumbled a moment before managing to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Magnus.”

“Samirah?” he sat up, groggy. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry about ditching you earlier.”

“Sam,” he implored. “Seriously, are you sure? You were acting weird.”

She chuckled. It was her usual laugh, the way she laughed whenever Magnus would crack an idiotic joke during their tutoring sessions. That, more than her words, reassured him. Whatever had happened earlier wasn’t directly about her. That would have to be enough.

“I promise,” she repeated. “Everything is okay.”

“Okay,” he sighed.

“So, any… updates?”

He frowned. “Updates? About what?”

“What do you think?” The smirk on her face was evident in the tone of her voice.

He groaned and collapsed backward on the pillows, narrowly missing the headboard. “Come on, Sam…”

“That sounds like something happened.”

“Yeah, fine.” He rubbed his forehead. “I saw her again. We talked. She’s cool, smart, into art. Her name’s Alex.”

He waited for Samirah to respond, to interrogate him further, but instead he was met by silence. He glanced at the screen, wondering if the call had been dropped, but no. She was still there.

“Samirah?”

“Alex?” she said. Her tone was tinged with urgency. “You said her name’s Alex? What does she look like?”

“What does that have to do with—”

“ _Magnus Chase, tell me what she looks like right now!_ ”

He blinked, confused. “Well, she’s got green hair and these ridiculously pretty eyes—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Samirah let out something almost like a shriek, startling him into silence. “I have to go,” she burst out, half-laughing. “Oh gods, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sam?”

“Trust me,” she cried, and yes, she was definitely laughing now. At that sound, Magnus let the concern that had bubbled up within him seep away again. And with that, she hung up.

Magnus stared in bemusement at his phone for a moment, then shook his head. He could only hope she meant it when she said she’d talk to him later.

Luckily, barely ten minutes passed before his phone buzzed with a text from Sam.

_9am tomorrow, the public garden. Meet me there._

Magnus replied, though he was still perplexed.

_Sure. Why?_

_Because I say so. Trust me._

_Okay_.

He fell asleep with difficulty that night, wondering what had so alarmed Samirah that she had to hang up and then arrange a strange, borderline-clandestine meeting the next day. What was going on with her? Did her odd behavior at their tutoring session somehow have something to do with his relationship issues? How could it, though?

And what about his relationship issues, anyway? It wasn’t as if he could really say _relationship_ with any accuracy—he didn’t even know the boy’s name, and had only a few minutes, really, with both of them. Yet he had felt drawn to them, intrigued and attracted and… fond? Could that even be possible after such brief encounters?

Finally, he drifted off, the memories of green hair, teasing smirks, and sparkling laughter seeping into his dreams.

* * *

The morning arrived, the weather warmer than usual for winter in Boston. The mostly bare trees of the Public Garden created a rather dramatic, stark backdrop, though there were a few smaller plants barely clinging to hints of green. The fountain in the pond nearby bubbled away, sounding far too cheery for the strange situation.

Waiting in their midst, Magnus buried his hands in the pockets of his coat, as the alternative was to fidget endlessly as he waited for whatever it was Samirah wanted from him.

He arrived at the garden a few minutes early, yawning and still blinking the last traces of sleep out of his vision. However, Samirah was already there, pacing like a caged jungle cat who was readying herself to strike.

“Hey,” he said, a little cautiously. “So… you wanted to see me?”

She nodded, though there was something anticipatory and almost anxious in her eyes. “Yeah.”

He raised his eyebrows, waited. When no elaboration seemed forthcoming, he spoke again. “Just… see me? You summoned me to the Public Garden in the middle of winter just to look at little old me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously not.” Her tone added an implicit _moron_. “There’s someone I need you to… meet.”

“Okay…” Magnus shuffled his feet. “And where is this person?”

Samirah checked her phone again, tugging off her glove to unlock it. “On the way.”

So he crossed his arms and watched as Samirah compulsively looked at her phone every thirty seconds or so, sometimes texting. Magnus survived three minutes of observing this before he finally broke.

“Sam, is everything okay? Does this have something to do with your mysterious errand yesterday?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Definitely not.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re acting kind of weird.” He approached her.

She continued to shake her head. “It’s just—” She never finished her sentence, though. Her eyes widened, though now they contained a look of excitement and a strange tinge of mischievousness as she seemed to catch sight of something over Magnus’ shoulder.

Out of instinct, Magnus started to turn. At that moment, a voice called out.

“All right, Sam, what the hell was so important you had to make me get out bed before ten on a Sunday morning?”

Magnus whirled.

Wait a minute.

The boy who’d shared his umbrella was striding toward them both, hands in the pockets of his army green skinny jeans. He wore a white button-up and a scarf the color of amaranth slung artfully around his neck. Magnus recognized him, of course he did, but… wait. He knew this person from elsewhere. That hair…

No way.

The girl from the food court, Alex, with the hair and the eyes and the witty sarcasm… This boy was the same person.

Wait. What?

“It’s you,” Magnus said stupidly. “But…”

The boy—Alex?—came to a stop in front of them both. Magnus dimly noticed Samirah grinning at them as she stepped off to the side, but he was mainly staring at the figure before him as his world tilted and shifted to accommodate this revelation. How could this be possible?

Then again… When he had met the boy, he had a beanie and a hood over his hair, and thanks to the rain Magnus hadn’t really gotten a good look at his face, let alone those mesmerizing, distinctive eyes.

“Hey, Magnus,” he said, a small smirk on his face.

“Alex,” he breathed.

Alex’s smirk transformed into a full-fledged grin. “He’s learning, Samirah! Aren’t you proud?”

Magnus shot a glance at Sam, who was hiding her laughter behind her hand. Well, trying to. “Be nice, Alex,” she said.

“Ha— hang on,” Magnus stammered. This was one question, at least, that he could wrap his mind around. “How… how do you two even know each other?”

“Alex is my half-sibling,” Samirah explained quickly as Alex chuckled. “We share… well, a parent. It’s kind of complicated.”

“You can say that again,” Alex said dryly.

“Okay…” Magnus swallowed, unsure how to continue. “Umm…”

“What?” Alex asked in amusement. Obviously, he wanted Magnus to continue asking questions.

“I’m confused.”

Alex snorted. “What else is new?”

“Alex,” Sam chided, but the word lost all its potency as she dissolved into silent giggles.

“What confuses you, Rhymes-with-Swagness?” Alex asked. He crossed his arms and grinned, regarding Magnus with a kind of teasing mirth.

“I…” Magnus hesitated, not quite sure how to voice his jumbled thoughts. “I’m not sure how I didn’t realize I’d met you before.”

Alex nodded. “Honestly, I find that kind of surprising too. I assumed you knew it was me when I ran into you being super adept at using an umbrella.”

Warmth flooded Magnus’ cheeks. “But… you were a boy that day…?” He tried not to let that sound like a question, but his utter bewilderment regarding this entire morning still seeped into his words.

“Yeah.” Alex nodded again, as if he were waiting for an elementary schooler to add two and two. “I’m aware.”

“But in the food court, and yesterday, you were a girl…”

“I’m genderfluid, Falafel Boy. Keep up.” Alex’s eyes sparkled, though there was something hard and gleaming in that look as well. As if he were daring Magnus, or anyone in the world, to contradict him.

“Oh,” Magnus said, feeling stupider by the second. “Right.”

“The really interesting bit,” Alex continued, musing now, “is how you could _tell_.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t have to tell you what my gender was for any of those days,” Alex explained, “but you got it right just now. So how could you tell each time?”

Magnus blinked. “I don’t know, I just… could, I guess?”

He considered. It wasn’t as if he had used many gender-specific words in those conversations, really. And yet… he _had_ known, each time. Alex’s gender always seemed a given to him, so much so that he hadn’t even questioned it. The first time they had met, and later in the park, she was unmistakably female. And in the rain, he had been just as unmistakably male. Just like he was now. No wonder Magnus had been unable to reconcile them as the same person, in the different contexts. Now, of course, it seemed perfectly obvious.

Alex watched him for a moment with a small, incredulous, wondering smile on his face. “No one’s ever been able to do that before,” he murmured. “Not with this amount of certainty, at least.”

Magnus bit his lip. “Thanks, I think.”

Alex’s smile widened. “You’re welcome. But also, while you’re apparently observant, you’re also extremely oblivious, man.”

“What?” he frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Umm…” Alex was giving him a disbelieving look again, but less gentle and more lightly taunting this time. He pointed to his hair, then gestured at his clothes. “I’ve kind of got a style going on, Maggie. How many green-haired fashion icons do you think there are in Boston?”

“Hang on,” Magnus protested, simultaneously biting down on an objection at the nickname. “You were wearing a beanie when you let me share your umbrella! How was I supposed to notice your hair with that, and the rain?”

Alex pursed his lips against a smile. “My beanie’s genderfluid pride colors, for one thing.”

“I saw it for one second!” Magnus exclaimed. “And as for the rest of your clothes, I… I don’t know. I thought you went to that… private school? You know, with the… colors?” He gestured vaguely at Alex’s outfit.

Alex blinked, nonplussed. “The what with the what?”

Magnus was all too aware of Samirah’s smothered laughter, and clenched his hands awkwardly at his sides. “Never mind. Point is, I just… didn’t realize, okay?”

“Fine,” Alex rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” There was something fond in his tone, though, and in the upward turn of his mouth.

They regarded each other for several long moments. Magnus was at a loss for what to say, but felt he had to fill the silence with something.

The words that came out his mouth were still unexpected, though.

“How do you feel about getting a coffee with me?”

Alex lifted an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”

“I—” Magnus swallowed. He had a distinct feeling he was blushing again. “I might be.”

Several long moments passed. Magnus seemed hyper-aware of everything: Alex’s intense scrutiny, Samirah’s attempts to appear as if she weren’t eavesdropping (though her thumbs were definitely _not_ moving on her phone), the sounds of the burbling fountain and the breeze-rustled tree branches. Finally, Alex spoke again.

“Okay, but you’re paying. Not because it’s a date, but because you still owe me for knocking me over in the food court.”

Magnus’ first instinct was to object, but hey, Alex still had accepted the offer. That was something.

(But still.)

“Not a date?” he murmured, a little feebly. “Even though you kissed me yesterday?”

At this, Samirah let out a soft, surprised shriek that she frantically tried to stifle in her gloves. Both Alex and Magnus ignored her.

“I know,” Alex said, a wry grin stretching across his face. “But that was yesterday. Today, you’re just buying me a coffee.”

He stepped closer, and—despite the couple of inches Magnus had on him—seemed to dominate Magnus’ vision. “Wanna go, then?”

Magnus let out a soft laugh, then glanced at Samirah, who started nodding, as if to say, _what are you looking at me for? Get out of here!_

“Let’s go,” he agreed, and fell into step with Alex.

“See you, sis,” Alex said as they passed Samirah. She high-fived him, beaming.

“By the way,” Magnus called over his shoulder to her, “I still want to know where you went yesterday!”

“Another day, Magnus,” she cried. “If you think you can handle the truth.”

“I’ll let you know if I even survive today,” he replied, glancing shyly at Alex, who snickered.

They walked along through the garden, and after a moment, Alex’s fingers intertwined with his.

* * *

That afternoon, even a full half hour after saying goodbye to Alex—and exchanging phone numbers—Magnus still felt like skipping. He took the steps up to the apartment two at a time, but stumbled to a halt as he entered the living room. His mother was curled up on the couch, a book open on her lap.

“Magnus,” she said upon spotting him, “what have you been up to?”

Right. He supposed in his confusion about Samirah’s behavior, he had forgotten to mention to his mother that he was going out that morning. And then, of course, spending the rest of the day with Alex, he’d been a bit distracted…

“Hanging out with Sam and a… friend,” he said. “Sorry I forgot to text you.”

She waved it off, aware that Magnus knew the safe areas of Boston, and knew better than to stay out late. “Well, I won’t say I didn’t wonder where you’ve been, but you’re home in one piece before dark. That’s good enough for me. Next time, please try to remember to text, though?”

He nodded, then shuffled his feet. “Hey, Mom…” he began, swallowing.

Immediately, her expression shifted to one of concern. “Is everything okay?”

At that, he couldn’t suppress a grin. How could anything _not_ be okay, when he had just spent several hours with Alex Fierro, sipping coffee in a ridiculously hipster cafe they’d both teased relentlessly, window-shopping at some of the quirky stores in Back Bay and laughing about the over-the-top fashion, visiting Alex’s art studio and failing at pottery (well, just Magnus in regards to that last part).

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said. “Just… Do you remember a while back when you asked if I had a girlfriend or boyfriend?” He waited for her to nod before continuing, beaming. “Well, turns out I’ve got someone better.”

**Author's Note:**

> *posts the first fic I wrote for this fandom several months after the fact, like a boss*


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